You're No-Crazy Stiles
by FandomAngstQueen
Summary: "Such pitiful human skin," the creature hissed sending searing pain through the teenagers' arm- but the boy never felt it- Still trapped underneath the heavy weight of his possessor..."Look Stiles, I can wear you. We are one together now" - The second instalment to my Teen Wolf Fanfiction Saga. Stiles and Void talk.


**A/N Hey guys, me again! I'm pretty new to this Fandom and love that it's got such a vast community This is part two to my Teen Wolf saga, now we all get to find out what happened to Stiles and Void. For those of you who were confused at the first part, it's all point is to be in and out of the loop, all disorientated. This one is slightly more coherent and I hope you enjoy it. Honestly, I feel this one was my favourite part to write.**

 **Quick but huge thank you to my two reviewers, Vuure and MariAJB who convinced me not to stop this before it had begun.**

 **Warning: The content written is quite (hopefully) graphic and nasty. This is a warning to people not wishing to read graphic detail of injury, torture or unstable mentality. Or this may disappoint people as I am an amateur when it comes to this content. I like to think evilly but whether it comes across is another matter.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story. Nor do I own the Image I am borrowing for this Fanfic. The inspiration was from Melanie Martinez's 'Mad Hatter' again, as stated I do not own.**

 **Don't worry this Fic is much shorter than the first! Enjoy R and R! :)**

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 **You're No-Crazy Stiles**

White bandages, stained with human presence crept around a dim cellar, the only light a UV projector above the owners' head. The bandages belonged to a man, judging by his deep voice, speaking words of Japanese origin but every so often the language would switch to English. This occurred when the man turned to talk to another in the room. If anyone was with him, they would have insisted he call a psychiatrist. By his repetitive actions, mumbles and the fact he spoke to another in room- a dark room, but not enough to know there was only one outline and only one person's voice present.

Then again, had the person been in the knowledge that this man, acting over the edge of insanity- was actually supposed to be dead, killed years ago. He was a rotting body- a corpse with breath. A haggard breath that grunted in time with his incessant scribbles with chalk. Every so often, he would do the devilish deed and drag his claws down the black, emitting a screech to force the other to scream in agony. Beg this man to stop tormenting him.

Of course this hundred-year-old man would never listen to an alter ego. A younger version of a spirit possessed from within him. He tilted his head, hearing the boys skin quiver and his anguished cries rattle from within him. This human did not stand a chance against this demon.

"Such pitiful human skin", the creature hissed sending searing pain through the teenagers' arm- but the boy never felt it- Still trapped underneath the heavy weight of his possessor. He peeled the skin away as though he would be removing the many bandages across his face and body. He then draped it over his fingers and twitched his head in curiosity.

With a haggard breath, the mummified figure pulled his finger to his eyes, "Look Stiles, I can wear you. We are one together now"

From inside, the human body was trapped, sweating profusely- presenting every ounce of his strength had gone into battering his way out a prison. He slid against the wall, forcing back his tears and biting his lips. At the sight of the skin, he bit down harder- drawing blood which the creature sensed and relished.

"Your body is mine. Your blood is mine. We are one now Stiles," the creature continued, licking away at the taste of copper. The boy Stiles, only gave him a look of disgust but didn't try to escape any longer.

He'd beaten, struggled, screamed and hurt the creature but nothing made it relent.

Stiles did the last thing he could to vent out his frustration and drown out the echoing breath of his captor.

Scream.

"Stop that!" The creature screamed, squashing his ears to drown banshee like cry.

Stiles ignored him, beating down on the walls, "LET ME OUT!"

To his surprise the skin of his captor melted away- or at least that was the only way Stiles could explain the sudden appearance of his own alter ego.

"Void," he whispered, horrified. He scrubbed his eyes, looking to his right and left of the mirrors suddenly around him. Each one reflecting his darker reflection.

"What do you want?!" Stiles demanded, shivering.

"We've been over this, Stiles," Voids tone was tired.

"It-it wasn't a dream…they—they think I'm gone!" It wasn't a question but Stiles needed it confirmed. The Nogitsune only smirked. He stepped above the UV light where Stiles could truly reacquaint himself with his captor.

It was the same as he'd looked a few years ago. His height, his body, wearing the same dulled and black shaded hoodie and matching dulcet jeans and trainers. His hair, spiked back slightly greasy but how else was he supposed to look? This creature was created when Stiles went missing for days, he returned to them fearful, screaming but also malnourished and abandoned- it was later his protectors saw he'd come back abandoned in mind as well as physically. The face wearing his mannerisms with a twist, craned his neck. Stiles also saw his face, instead of the previous beady coal shaded irises, he was greeted with only one. The other was to his horror, his warm eye but cracks drew a zig zag down it as well as consuming one half of his face, right down his cheek, past his cracked, blood crusted lips and even disappeared down his neck, Stiles couldn't see past his shirt, but could guess the black veins continued down the rest of his covered body.

"You Stiles," He snarled at the vulnerable prey, "Your friend, Scott and the banshee, you three did this," he threw a finger up so hard, he narrowly avoided contact with his eye. The blackened eye but somehow Stiles saw a lighter black shade where normal red veins would pulse. These veins slowly moved like vines, stretching across the eye from under his cracked skin.

Stiles wondered, in a curious distraction, if he poked the cracked edges, would one half of his alter egos face crumble away. But by the look of anger crossing the thousand-year-old demon, Stiles knew better to hold his tongue in turn his fingers movements.

"You think you can do this? Defeat me. I am a THOUSAND YEARS OLD STILES. YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME!" The other declared with a roar. Stiles was taken aback and didn't realise the creature had lunged for him until he felt a spike of pain radiate from his chest, through to his back, sprinting up and down his spine. His form doubled over, coughing violently.

"Wh-what did you-d-d-o?" Stiles coughed, forcing the question to escape his reddening lips.

"Don't worry Stiles. I can't just kill you-"

"_why? Because if-I-I d-die, yo-you do too?"

He earned that backhand to the face, "Clever Stiles"

"I-I have been to-told," another backhand and the teenager was meeting the ground with more than a rude mouth.

"You need to hold your tongue," He insisted, crouching down to his level. "I'll show you," he offered with a twisted grin, yanking Stiles face to him and gripping his tongue. His hand yanked him down, Stiles tasted the dirt and blood that now filled his mouth. He panicked when a weight crushed into the delicate organ. He tried to scream but the blood and bile blocked him from doing so.

"Now Stiles. I have your attention," The creature smiled in victory. The younger boy beneath him didn't attempt to struggle. This frail organ was a part of another frail body-one that Stiles was helpless to fix if any irreparable accident happened to it.

Finally, the pressure was released. Stiles face collapsed to the tiles. Sending waves of pain at his face. Before he could recover another sensation made itself known in his neck. This time he struggled, kicking and pulling at the syringe in his captor's cold hands.

"St-stop!" Stiles bit out, relieved to have his voice back and all organs working perfectly again. He'd spoken too soon. The thin wire sunk its unknown poison deep into his skin. Stiles body flailed in the nogitsunes grasp for a few moments longer then retired.

"Wh-what did-" Was all the smaller boy could manage. His paralysis prevented him from uttering another word. He barely had breath. He only knew he had it when another scream rippled from his throat.

Hot iron pressed against the skin of his back. It was like this creature was branding him in silence. Next he was turned over, not aware of when he was face deep in dirt in the first place. Bone fractures were spread throughout his body. The lowest of human attacks; stabbing, kicks, punches and beatings, were inflicted on the vulnerable form. Stiles took it, only allowing a few tears to escape.

He heard the crack of his fingers and wondered one question with each snap of his limbs. He used all his strength to ask, before the paralysis overtook him, "Wh-why th-this now?"

"Very uncharacteristic?" the demon muttered, "How right Stiles. But you, the emissary of werewolves surely knows. This speeds up the process"

Stiles thought hard, his memory growing hazy by the minute. It hit him- werewolves forced pain on themselves and their pack to speed up the healing process of wounds. He realised as soon as the darkness claimed him.

The creature tutted, knocking the side of Stiles blood crusted temple with his foot, "You won't heal. Sending yourself to Eichenhouse was the best decision you made. You were made to make the process work faster. You slept. You'll sleep in the dark longer- your human body is forced to heal-you will stay under longer than this poison allows. Apparently Deaton forgot to mention how short this process keeps you under for. Shame really cause then I wouldn't have to do this much," he licked his lips then whispered close to Stiles revealed ear, "But then where would I find my revenge from?" The entire time, the body below didn't stir much to the creatures' grim smile, "And While you sleep, I will see your friends. When you wake up, you will be more me than your will. Then Stiles, I will come for you."

His beaten form was lowered to the ground, seemingly dead. His other crept over to him and took his pulse, feeling the stubborn beat underneath his claws. His wrist was thrown to the ground and the nogitsunes figure disappeared through the walls.

It was a long time before Stiles was found.


End file.
